


Anthos

by Duckgomery



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Mystery, Summer Big Bang 2015, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:41:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckgomery/pseuds/Duckgomery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It's not going to be alright. How is any of this going to be alright?” </p><p>“There are probably people out looking for us. It's only a matter of time before we'll be found and everything will be fine.” </p><p>“You're an idiot if you really think that. This is something bigger, Kenma."</p><p>In which the sun is warm, the sand is soft, and Kenma has no idea how he got to the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anthos

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Haikyuu!! 2015 Summer Big Bang.  
> A big shout out and thankyou to my wonderful beta Downmoon, and the insanely talented Claramarla for her gorgeous artwork. It was such an honour to be working with these two darls, and they've been the best sounding boards and support for this project. Wouldn't have been able to finish it without them.

He can smell the sharp sting of salt, feel the heat shimmering on the sand.

He can hear the-

_Splash_

-crash of the waves as they hit the shore.

 _Wait_ , Kenma thinks, _crash isn’t right_ , opening his eyes, but closing them quickly at the overwhelming brightness. When he reopens them, with more hesitation, Kenma is prepared for the glare that has lessened it's onslaught, leaving him at a squint rather than blinded.

Logically, Kenma knows that the clear, sudden sound of a splash he’d heard makes no sense on a beach. In all the time he’s spent sitting in this exact spot, the waves had made nothing but their same, steady drag against the shore, as soft and as soothing as a heartbeat.And even if it was just a fluke, one of those funny little noises that sometimes happen in the push and pull of tides and waves and volumes of water, he had yet to hear it again. But now, even with his mind running over all the reasons it was impossible, Kenma knows what he’d heard.

It was the splash of something falling hard. The kind of fall that deals damage, pricks at skin with the sting of a slap, or pulls memories down into cold, silent depths.

Kenma didn't know why his thoughts turned to that, or why it made his chest feel tight, as if something other than air was rushing in and crushing him. It takes a few moments to calm the racing of his heart, to force himself into realizing he’s fine, he’s safe and dry and breathing, out there on the sandy shore. Still, despite the height, the intensity of the sun, the gentle breeze blowing across the ocean, the mobs of people crowding over every inch of space, he feels cold.

 

_You don't have to,_

“But I want to,” Kenma answers, jolting into awareness as soon as the words leave his mouth. He looks around wildly for Kuroo, he was just there, he was _just_ \- Kuroo was standing tall in front of him, he smells like suntan lotion and damp, he-

Kenma inhales a shaky breath, and tries to exhale slowly, the memory of a voice telling him _in through the nose, out through the mouth_ swirling around the edge of his subconscious. Kuroo was there, right there in front of him seconds ago. They were standing, and talking, and he’d been right there, but now he was gone, nothing left but the sand and the people and the waves that don’t sound right.

 _If I’d been standing and talking to Kuroo, then why am I sitting?_ Kenma asks himself, vaguely aware that the thought feels desperate. The sand, the noise, it's clouding his head, though, he can't think straight enough to come up with a plausible reason.

"It's probably the heat," he reasons aloud, after a minute.

It's a stretch, maybe, but he can't seem to find an answer that makes him seem sane.

He raises a pale, trembling hand to his forehead, surprised to find his skin dry and comfortable, not tight and aching with sunburn, like he’d been expecting.

He struggles to stand, looking for somewhere to escape from the light and the heat so he can sort out his thoughts.

Unfortunately, the crowds of people packed onto the beach seem oblivious to his distress, instead weaving a tight wall of bodies impossible to see through. Kenma clenches his fists tightly, steeling himself, and breathes in a deep breath of air that smells like the earthy scent of rain just after a storm. He sets off into the crowd, pushing as best he can through tiny gaps, ignoring the fact that the beach hadn’t smelt like that earlier.

 

 

The boardwalk that borders the beach is overflowing with people and Kenma finds himself pulled along by the tide of bodies. He tries to ignore how a lot of them are smiling, turning to talk to people who've already pushed past them and continuing their side of the conversation without their audience.

He really needs to find some shade.

 _Why did they keep on talking? Was there something they were seeing that he couldn’t? What was going on?_ Kenma asked himself as he tried to make himself as small as possible. He needed to find a way out.

The vendor’s booths along the sides of the boardwalk would hardly provide any kind of shelter from the sun, even if he could make it through the crowd to get to one.

 _There_.

Angling himself and moving across gradually, Kenma escapes the flow of traffic in the same way he'd been taught to escape from a riptide, and makes his way into the Busport. _Shelter from the sun, a place to sit, and a way to find out exactly where he is,_ Kenma thinks to himself, _perfect_. He revels in the cool air, before taking a seat on an uncomfortable bench.

He’s not alone on the seats. To his left sat another boy; blonde hair with no trace of darker roots, gangly limbs, and a round, babyish face hidden behind black frames. Kenma knows he’s staring, and that it’s rude, and would make him uncomfortable if someone were to do it to him, but there was something about this boy, this stranger, that told Kenma that he had to take every detail in. That he was someone worth remembering.

The boy's shoulders are tense. Fingers clasped together so tightly, his knuckles were white. His right leg bounces to some beat that was too fast for Kenma to follow.

Kenma steadies his nerves as he leans towards the other boy.

“Are you okay?”

The boy jumps, turning to glare at Kenma with enough venom to make him shrink back, instantly regretting interrupting the steady thrum of background noise of people trickling onto buses.

“I'm sor-”

“Do I look fine to you?” The boy asks, voice cold. He’s not looking at Kenma anymore, back to watching the arrival bay of the bus port. Kenma lets out a shuddery breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding in.

“No. It's why I asked. Sorry for disturbing you.”

The boy sighs, and slumps back against his seat.

“Sorry for snapping. I don't mean to, he keeps on telling me I need to try to be patient…” The boy trails off, his whole posture relaxing until it’s almost like he’s disappeared, a few seats away from Kenma “-and then he was calling my name, because of course he gets lost, typical Akiteru, so now I'm waiting for him to come back.” The boy nods to the direction of the arrivals.

“Been waiting long?”

“Long enough. Do you know when the buses are supposed to be returning?”

“No clue. I only came in to escape the sun. The beach got too hot for me.”

“Beach? We're on the coast?”

Kenma nods.

“Why would Akiteru and I be at the coast? We never go anywhere in the summer,”

“That's what I was asking myself. But we're here so may as well try and find out exactly where we are so we can get back.”

“Weird.”

“Is there a map anywhere around here?”

“Not that I've seen, but I just got out of the boarding cue and sat down here. Don't want to miss that idiot if I can help it.”

“I'll see what I can find. I'll be back.”

“'Kay.”

Kenma stands up, swaying slightly on his feet as the floor seems to pulse beneath him in time with his suddenly too-loud heart. The other boy doesn't seem to notice what had happened, so Kenma walks to what has to be a ticket booth, finding it strange that there was no one in line for passes. Turning his head, Kenma watches the steadily boarding queue; the people seem to just step right onto the bus, no passes, receipts, anything to the driver, before they take their seats. _Strange,_ Kenma thinks before stepping up to the counter, craning his head to try and make out any member of staff hiding behind the glass screen.

Not spotting anyone, Kenma reaches to the gap at the bottom, placing his hand down on the pristine, silver bell, the sound of which was louder and more piercing than Kenma had anticipated. Wrenching his hand back as he flinched, the bell flew back away from him across the counter before hitting the ground with something that sounded more like the crumpling of metal against metal than the clatter that should have been.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Kozume?” Kenma looks to the woman who appears behind the window. She looks to be in her twenties, her pulled back tight and smile that bit too friendly, asked.

“I was just wondering where I am,” Kenma felt uneasy. Though the woman was smiling, there was something about the way that she seemed too warm, too friendly, that she knew too much about him already despite only having just met.

“You're exactly where you're supposed to be, Kozume.”

“But where is this?”

“The bus port, Kozume.”

“Is there a map or anything?”

“You already know the way, Kozume, you just need to remember how to get there.”

“When does the bus arrive? I have a- a friend who's waiting for someone,”

“Tsukishima knows the way, and when it will arrive. He just needs to remember, Kozume.”

“Tsukishi-, how do you know his name? How do you know my name?”

The woman with the stiff, friendly face just smiles. Kenma feels sick.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Kozume Kenma?”

“No. I should be fine. Thank you.”

“It was no trouble. Have a good summer, Kozume.”

 

Kenma returns to the bench in a daze, confused and unsettled and very much wanting to hide away from all these strange people.

“Anything?”

“Tsukishima?”

The boy's eyes turn cold.

“How did you know that? Who are you?”

“The lady at the booth. She knew my name, Kozume Kenma, even though I told her nothing. She mentioned Tsukishima and I put two and two-”

“Well you're right. Tsukishima Kei. But that is creepy.”

Kenma does nothing more than nod in agreement.

“Well, Kozume,”

“Kenma.”

“What?”

“I go by Kenma.”

“Whatever. Just don't call me Tsukki.”

“Tsukki?”

“Only he gets to call me that. Anyone else-” Tsukishima stops abruptly.

As Kenma waits for Tsukishima to regain himself, another bus pulls into the departure bay, coming to a halt with a screech that sounds more frantic and sudden than the vehicle's movement should have made.

Tsukishima jolts back, eyes wide and breathing shallow before he looks around, lost.

“What was- “

“Another bus for departures, Tsukishima.” Kenma wonders why Tsukishima looks so tense, so startled.

“Sorry, must have zoned out. Did you find a map or anything about where we are?”

“All I got from the woman was that we know where we are, we just need to remember. Also that we're at the Busport.”

“Both bits of information to us a heap of good. Anything about Arrival buses?”

Kenma shakes his head.

“Well we may as well make ourselves comfortable.”

“We?”

“Weren't you waiting for someone as well?” Tsukishima asks.

Kenma thinks, trying to piece together what he does know.

He had been at the beach with nothing but the clothes on his back and alone.

He must have gone to the bus port for some reason. And if he was sitting here, watching the arrival bay then he must have been waiting for someone, just like Tsukishima.

 _“It's so hot, but the water will be freezing. I bet you that new game that we'll be covered in goosebumps as soon as we step in, Kenma.”_ _Kuroo declares with a grin._

_That’s right, he was waiting for someone._

“I'm going to win that bet. It's hot enough that the water will be cool but not cold. Kuroo owes me big time.” Kenma smiles to himself.

“Who's Kuroo?”

“The idiot who'll owe me a brand new game as soon as he gets here. I wonder what's keeping him?”

“Same with that brother of mine.” Tsukishima huffs out a laugh before folding his arms and leaning back against the chair. His forehead crinkles slightly. “Would be nice if these chairs were comfier, gonna be a pain to wait.”

“Boring, too. Wish I had my phone.”

“I wish I had my headphones, so I can actually listen to something good.”

“Or any hand held console.”

“Or a book.”

Kenma looks to Tsukishima, and the other boy looks back at him. They spend a moment like that before they both can’t keep a straight face,, smiles crooked.

“I wonder when the bus will get here?”

“No idea.”

“Enough are leaving.”

“It should be a matter of time.”

Kenma nods before settling into the chair, getting as comfortable as he can. Legs curled up, chin hooked over his knees and arms wrapped over his shins to hold himself together, Kenma watches the Arrival bay with near unblinking eyes, Tsukishima in a similar state by his side.

 

The lights inside the Busport turn on automatically as the sky outside turns dark.

 

Kenma's neck is sore and stiff, but he holds his position until Tsukishima lets out a sigh of frustration. Soft, morning light has begun to trickle in through the windows.

“I'm going to go for a walk. Had enough of this place and it doesn't look like any buses are coming back anytime soon.” Tsukishima announces as he stands up, hissing at the way his joints pop and crack.

Kenma is quick to follow, wincing at the feeling in his knees and hips as he straightens himself out.

As they walk more or less side by side towards the entrance, Kenma notes that Tsukishima is about Kuroo's height, making the whole motion of walking with him somewhat familiar.

The Arrival bay remains empty as they leave.

 

 

Outside it is hot and crowded, but not as bad as Kenma remembered it being the day before. Still didn't help that everything appeared way too bright, enough that Kenma had to raise his hand to shield his eyes, momentarily faltering in his pace and nearly losing Tsukishima in the mass of bodies moving around.

“Hurry up.”

“Sorry, Tsuki-”

“Shut up, Yama-” Tsukishima starts, as if on auto pilot, before he catches himself. Turning around sharply and shoulders curling in on himself. “Come on, Kenma.” He says, softly.

Kenma nods, even though Tsukishima can not see him, picking up his pace until he is once more walking next to Tsukishima.

Nothing looked familiar. There were no street signs, or shop names anywhere that could have given either of them a hint of where they currently were. And when ever Kenma felt like drifting close enough to ask any of the people working at the stalls bordering the sides of the flow of people, he realised they all wore too friendly faces, just like the woman at the bus port, almost part of the surrounding scenery, and thought better of it.

“We haven't slept.” Kenma states.

Tsukishima hums in agreement, pace still brisk.

“Do you feel like resting?”

“Not really, but we probably should. Do you have any money on you?”

Kenma pats himself down, despite already knowing that his old and worn track pants, perfect for lounging around the house, had no pockets.

“No. But an inn should have a phone at least, something could be arranged.”

“True. But that depends if we can find-“ Tsukishima stops speaking as an inn appears up ahead, exactly where the continuous street stalls and vendors had continued to stretch out moments ago.

And it wasn't just one inn, but rows and rows of inns.

“That's-“

Kenma turns around sharply, and behind them is nothing but large buildings meant to house guests, varying from old traditional styles, to more modern varieties. None of them look alike, but there’s a sense that all of them were built to the exact same specifications.

“Weird.” Kenma finishes were Tsukishima left off, taking a step closer to Tsukishima.

“Should we-“

“Yeah.”

They continue to walk.

 

The sun is directly above them, that Kenma can see, but apparently that meant nothing to the gradually narrowing street Tsukishima and himself were walking down. The lanterns hanging around the fronts of each building, are definitely out of place in the high, morning sun, but at the same time, they all seem to connect the different eras and styles of the inns. The lights glows a warm, comfortable orange, presenting the illusion of early evening in the bright sunlight.

It makes no sense.

“So, should we?”

“May as well. Any place in particular that calls out to you?”

“Not really. You?”

Nope. Let's just ask here.” Tsukishima announces as he turns, heading to the inn on their immediate left. As they get to the front the greeter, smile soft and genuine, but still somehow off looks to them with kind, excited eyes.

“Tsukishima, Kozume, welcome. We've been waiting for you.”

“Sorry, wrong people.” Tsukishima says before he pivots, grabbing Kenma by his thin bicep and pulling him back into the crowd.

“The same thing happened at the bus port?”

“Yeah.”

“Something is wrong.”

“It took you that long to realise?”

“Shut up. Should we try somewhere else?”

“May as well, just to be sure.”

 

Every greeter’s face is different but the features, the bright eyes and the fake smiles and the thin, comforting tones of voice all feel eerily similar.

They keep walking, growing ever more aware that each and every person in this place seems to know their names.

 

 

The sun is still directly above them, as it had been for what surely had to be most of the day.

They had called it quits trying to find an Inn that didn’t know them on sight.

The moment that Tsukishima had suggested finding somewhere to just sit and rest as an alternative, the Inns were no longer around them, instead a park spread out before them, putting an end to the road they had been following.

“How does it know?” Kenma asks himself, not aware that he said it out loud.

“No idea, but it’s creepy.”

Kenma can only agree as he takes his first step on the lush looking, green grass.

As with everything else they had come across so far, the park was the perfect imagining, though it still seemed varying from area to area. Grass colour, type, and length change by a near grid like system, along with the humidity, temperature and other plant life.

“So, where?”

“Where ever looks best.”

“Not very helpful.”

“Well I'm so sorry about that.”

Kenma just huffs before taking the lead, knowing enough from Kuroo's occasional moods that silence was sometimes the best response.

He walked ahead for what seemed like only minutes but had to have been longer judging by how dark it had gotten. He stops underneath a tree with branches full of large, green leaves, seemingly untouched by the day’s heat, or even the season. Judging by the plushness of the grass underfoot, the same could be said about everything in the park.

“Here?”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima says quietly.

Kenma turns his head, thinking that he'd have difficulty making Tsukishima out in the limited light of the evening, but it appeared that there path to the tree had become illuminated with soft, glowing lights.

“Like breadcrumbs,” Kenma says.

Tsukishima turns to look behind him, and Kenma sees how his whole body tenses before he moves past Kenma to sit behind the tree and away from the lights

Kenma trails close behind.

 

Kenma rolls over for the umpteenth time that night, unable to settle downenough to actually sleep. It was like there was static buzzing in his head, with the occasional burst of something, a feeling, a word, a person's voice,a sensation, and then it was gone, as if someone was adjusting a dial trying to find the right station. Every time Kenma thought he was on the brink of sleep, that his mind was clear and his body relaxed and tired enough to drift off, he was jolted back, and he'd had enough.

Sitting up he turns to look at Tsukishima who, judging by the scrunched up frown on his face and how tightly he'd curled his body up, a coil about to burst, he was in the same situation as Kenma, and about to make it very well known.

“What sucks about Tokyo is the fact that we could never really see any stars. Kuroo tried to take me star gazing once. We were sitting in his back yard, looking up and he was so happy to see any lights up there, but they always turned out to be planes or satellites. It was funny how crush he'd always looked afterwards before he found a new 'constellation'.” Kenma finishes the story with a quiet laugh.

Tsukishima rolls onto his back, hands clasp together on top of his chest. He stares up at the sky for a moment before speaking.

“I live in Miyagi and the skies are so clear. My brother used to take me out, and he taught me what some of them were called. See that one there? That's Mars, and over there we have those three in a line, that's Orion's belt. Ursa Major, and Minor are there, and,” Tsukishima sits up and points all over the dark sky, tension slowing sapping out of him as he becomes absorbed by his current task. “That's odd,”

“Hmmm?”

“That one shouldn't be visible at this time of the year. And the one over there is exclusive to the southern Hemisphere. Not to mention,”

“Something wrong?”

“Well, I have no idea what that collection is over there. The brightness suggests large bodies, but they're much too close together, it doesn't make sense. I never saw any of these when Ya-Yam-Y, when I went out looking at them with him?”

And as soon as Tsukishima voiced that, the darkness began to fade, sky turning peachy.

“want to get something to eat? I bet the stalls will be opening soon.” Kenma offers as he stands, head down turned as he doesn't think he can trust the sky right now. The change hadn't even been gradual, night one moment then dawn the next. It seemed too convenient a change a happen just as Tsukishima had begun to question the presence of some of the celestial bodies.

“Probably a good idea. Can't remember the last time I ate.” Tsukishima's voice is clipped, annoyed at the whole situation. He takes the lead back towards the park entrance.

Kenma follows close behind, and realises that he to couldn't remember when he'd last ate or what it had been.

 

 

Neither of them understand how the path they followed to get to the tree the day before lead them to a food market, rather than the road lined with Inns.

“Did we take a wrong turn? This can't be the right way?” Tsukishima asks, his frown deepening as he looks around for any indication of a familiar setting.

“What the hell? Look, it’s gone!”

Kenma turns to follow Tsukishima's line of sight.

The park, and the grass they had been walking across moments ago, was nothing more that a continuation of what stretched out in front of them. Stalls and vendors of all sorts of foods; small, quaint bakeries, watame carts, ramen stands.

As with the Inns, and the park itself, this place didn't seem to have a set theme, with food and buildings from all over the world and no set time period.

“Well, we wanted food, I guess.” Tsukishima huffs out.

“Do you have money?”

“No. You?”

“No pockets.”

“Damn.”

“Would you boys care for a free sample?” A man with the same smile and eyes of the woman from the bus port, and the greeters who stood outside the Inns like signposts asked them. He held out a tray stuffed with freshly baked pastries, perfectly golden and crisp.

Kenma felt his mouth water at the smell of it.

“Go on, they're free. Kids these days need some meat on their bones.”

“Thank you,” Kenma says as he grabs one from the top of the pile.

Tsukishima simply nods as he takes one of the offered treats.

“it's no problem, Kozume and Tsukishima. Enjoy.” The man grins before stepping back.

Kenma and Tsukishima walked away, pace quick and hoping to put as much distance between themselves and the friendly face.

“Do you think these are even safe to eat?” Tsukishima asks once they know they are clear of that man.

“No idea, but what have we got to lose?”

“It could be poisoned.”

“And we could starve from being stubborn. And I doubt something that smells this good would be poisoned.” Kenma deduces.

“That's what they all say before they're poisoned.” Tsukishima rebuts.

Kenma just sticks his tongue out at the other boy before nibbling at the corner of the pastry, which is still warm in his hand.

Apple.

It has a hot apple filling spiced with brown sugar and cinnamon, and,

“It's apple pie,” Kenma breathes out, reverently, and can't stop himself from tearing off a mouthful, not bothering to hold back the groans as the taste floods his senses.

“What are you talking about, it's clearly a strawberry tart.” Tsukishima cuts into Kenma's little moment of euphoria as he picks away at one corner before placing it in his mouth.

“Whatever you say. Either way it's good.”

“I guess,” Is all that Tsukishima supplies in response.

 

 

“What now?” Kenma asks as he licks his fingers clean, not wanting to waste a single crumb of the pastry he had left on him.

“Try and find out where we are, or at least get to somewhere that's familiar.”

“Retracing our steps didn't really seemed to work last time.”

“So what's left is to find a landmark. Any suggestions?”

“Why me?”

“Because I've spent most of my time sitting and waiting indoors. You're the one who's actually been outside.”

“Just the beach really. I was on the beach then I went to find shelter but all I found was you.”

“There's a beach?”

“Yeah. It's kind of hard to miss.”

“Then where is it exactly if it's so hard to miss?”

“Well, it's-“ Kenma cranes his head, searching for the mostly smooth, lightly moving surface border by glaringly white sand.

If Kenma squints he swears he can feel the burn of the glare hitting him in the eyes.

“There.” And as suddenly as everything else had appeared and disappeared, the beach stretches out to their left side, as far as the eye can see.

“How,” Tsukishima starts as he slowly follows Kenma onto the sand, wading through the seated beach goers who seem to be constantly be in motion while staying in place. “Where are you going?”

“You said to find a land mark. We found one. Now to regroup and figure out the next step.”

“Can't we do that from here?” Kenma can hear that Tsukishima's voice is beginning to fade as he continues on wards, but he knows that the spot they need to be at, the perfect spot, the spot he'd been at the other day, was just ahead.

“Here.” Kenma calls out as he plonks himself down on the sand, suddenly feeling more calm and at ease than he had since he found himself here the day before.

“Why here?”

“Because.”

“Are you going to give me a straight answer?”

“It just felt right. And it's the spot I was at yesterday.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do, I guess.” Kenma answers, suddenly feeling shy. He curls up, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around his shins to keep them in place.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine. So we found a landmark and familiar spot. What now?”

“well at least we know we're on the beach which tells us one thing for sure.”

“That we're on the coast.”

“And while that doesn't narrow things down much.”

“We know we're on the coast”

“What else do you suggest?”

Kenma hesitates, suddenly nervous about revealing the thought that’s been plaguing him.

“Isn't it odd that we don't have phones or anything?”

“What are you,”

“No one else has them either. When have you ever seen so many people and not one of them checking their phones?”

“Maybe there's no signal out here so no one bothers.” Tsukishima's words sound unsure.

“But with all those Inns we saw it must be a popular tourist area. Same with all those different food places. It's odd that they'll have that much choice and variety but no phone or internet signal. And there hasn't even been any pay phones. Not even in the bus port.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That this place is weird.”

“Anything else new?”

“That I'm glad I'm not alone here.”

“Shut up, Yama- Kenma.” Tsukishima grumbles out, no venom in his words.

Kenma smiles, leaning down so his chin rests on his knees and sits and watches how the waves keep on crashing, over and over, and never seem to rise up any further on the sand.

 

 

“Kenma?”

Tsukishima's voice was quiet, barely audible over the crashing of the never rising tide and soft breeze that always seemed to be blowing.

“Yeah?” Kenma turns his head, seeing how the glow of pre-twilight light seems to make Tsukishima shine from within.

When did the day shift into evening? Kenma thinks to himself.

The taller boy's eyes still seemed sad though. So very sad.

“Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for. You know that.”

“But you didn't have to stay with me. So thank you for not leaving me alone.”

The sea is creeping ever closer, and while every nerve in Kenma is screaming at him to put as much distance between himself and what sent him here in the first place, he stays were he is seated.

“It's not a problem, Tsukishima.”

Kenma turns his head away form the other boy, giving them both some space that they need. Heart to hearts were never his thing, something that Kuroo always teased him about. He wondered how Kuroo was doing. His classmates. His mother.

And he wondered if he somehow glowed from within, like Tsukishima did in this light.

What did Tsukishima see?

 

“My name is Kozume Kenma and I'm in my second year at Nekoma High.”

“Tsukishima Kei, first year at Karasuno.”

“I live in-“ Kenma frowns as he tries to remember.

“Tokyo. You live in Tokyo.” Tsukishima supplies and it's as if a light goes off in Kenma's head because of course he lived in Tokyo. It's where he was born and raised.

“Yeah, Tokyo.”

“I live in the Miyagi prefecture and I'm on the volleyball team.”

“I used to play, but when I was in first year I hated how the seniors spoke about me so I just quit.”

“Smart move. My team is full of idiots, but they won’t let me quit because I’m tall. There’s Kageyama and Hinata, the freak quick duo, and-“ Tsukishima hesitates.

Kenma waits.

“Yamaguchi. He’s biggest wimp at times, but if it wasn't for him I really wouldn't do anything. He makes me want to be a better person.” Tsukishima tilts his head up, gazing up at the sky above. The fond look on his face, making his soft features look even more gentle makes Kenma's stomach flutter.

“that must be nice, having someone like that,”

“What about you and Kuroo?”

“He's a friend, my best and only one really, but he only really makes sure I get through the day and don't forget to eat, and remember to bring an umbrella and all that stuff. He's a worry wart.”

“He doesit because he cares, just like my stupid bro-, just like A-, like, like, like,” Tsukishima's hands snap up, fisting into his pale hair.

“Tsukishima?” Kenma tries his best to pull forward the name he knows Tsukishima had mentioned before, but it's buried under a sea of new information. As if everything they've been bringing back and reaffirming took up space that other things had once sat.

Tsukishima's head snaps up and he turns to look at Kenma.

“I,-I,” Tsukishima's voice wavers, his eyes wide with both realisation and horror. His knuckles are turning white as he squeezes his hand around his head.

Tsukishima's eyes became glassy. Kenma took a step forward, reaching a hand out in a gesture that he often remembered Kuroo using on him when Kenma was upset, but judging by the way that Tsukishima took a sudden step back, tears rolling free from the sudden movement, physical comfort was not what the other boy wanted right now.

“I can't remember. I can't remember his name.”

“It's alright. It's going to be alright,” Kenma tries to reason, not liking how tight his chest and throat are feeling right now. How his eyes begin to itch and a pressure seems to rise in his head.

“No it's not! It's not going to be alright, Kenma. How is any of this going to be alright? We don't know where we are. We don't know what's going on. We don't know what's going to happen to us.” Tsukishima's voice rose and all Kenma wanted to do was curl up somewhere and hide. First instinct was to drop to his knees and cover his ears, just like he used to do when his parents were arguing, but that wasn't an option now. Tsukishima was upset and Kenma needs to help him.

“We'll keep going like we've been going. It's been days, Tsukishima. There are probably people out looking for us. It's only a matter of time before we'll be found and everything will be fine.” Kenma pleads.

“You're an idiot if you really think that. This is something bigger, Kenma. I can't remember my brother's name! I-I, I can't,” Tsukishima loses all fight in his voice and his posture, seeming to cave into himself after voicing what had set him off.

His shoulders were shaking, face hidden behind his thin, pale hands. Kenma stood where he was, not knowing if now was the time to step forward and be a grounding, physical presence, or if staying where he was was the best course of action.

“Fuck this! Fuck it all.” Tsukishima yells out of nowhere before turning tail and running off.

Kenma stays in place, swaying ever so slightly and watches with wide eyes as Tsukishima disappears into the crowd that seems to thin by the day. Even with his height the other boy is no longer visible in the trickle of people and it hits Kenma that now he is well and truly alone in a place that just doesn't make sense.

 

 

Without Tsukishima Kenma feels more exposed than ever. He walks down the board walk, hands tucked into the waist band of his track pants. It was either that or risk picking at his nails until they were bloody stumps so it was the lesser of two evils and he hated how he could feel each and every friendly face follow him as he walked by. At least submerged in the suffocating crowds from days, or was it weeks, before it had been harder for them to single him out. But now he knew that each and every one turned their head to follow his movements as he passed.

“I'm tired.”

And then there was nothing but the Inns he'd seen with Tsukishima the first, had it really been the first?, day. The patch worked styles standing side by side, regardless of era and influence.

It didn't make sense.

“I'm hungry.”

The Inns that had been in the distance were gone as Kenma blinked, quickly replaced by food stalls and vendors pressed against either side of the path, which tapered to suit the new setting. The smells that wafted over towards him were a combination of all the foods he enjoyed, but as sweet s they smelled, Kenma felt ill.

“I'm bored.”

The stores around him, food, smell, and all, was washed away as Kenma shut his eyes for a mere moment and when he opened them again all there was were flashing lights and noises.

It was a complete mix, from festival games, to arcade machines from all eras. And walking through it at the slow trickle which they all seemed to move was the smallest crowd Kenma had seen in this place.

Kenma's eyes darted around, noting the fishing game with the flimsy paper nets, before walking over the the claw machine, surprised that there was no slot to put coins or tokens in, only a button to start it up.

Kenma doesn't press it.

He keeps on walking, past rifle games and co-op shot-em ups that are obviously missing the player 2 controller. But he walks past them all, urged on by the sensation that there’s something important waiting for him, and if he doesn’t keep going, he’ll never know what it is.

Kenma feels both uneasy but calm about it.

And then he sees the entrance to the arcade and doesn't know what to think.

The noises coming from the building are the ones he heard when he first came into this district of sorts, but as close as Kenma is to the source, they don't feel the least bit deafening.

It was like a beacon, and the flickering screens, showing animations and play throughs on auto pilot the flames that were drawing Kenma further and further in.

He stops in the doorway, something in the back of his mind stopping his legs from taking a single step further.

He didn't know why the arcade felt like the place he had to go, or why it felt like something form a far off memory. It was like someone used to take him to one just like this. Someone with messy black hair who always stuck up for him and stuck by him no matter how difficult he had been. Kenma remembered how the other boy would always insist on playing two player games even though he was hopeless at them and when asked why he'd always give Kenma the same answer.

_“Even if I lose, it's fun because I'm playing with you.”_

Kenma remembers the smile, the sound of the voice, the feel of their hand pulling his as they lead the way.

Kenma couldn't remember the name.

“I need to find Tsukishima.” Kenma announces to himself, trying to will himself to turn around and away, but while some part of him stopped him from entering the Arcade, another part keeps him in place, trying to pull him forward. Kenma can feel it, the pull of the unseen current getting stronger and stronger the more he is aware of it.

It'd be so easy to give in, to just walk inside and take his mind off everything. To just simply drown himself in everything the arcade had to offer.

It'd be so easy, but,

A name flashes across his memory.

“Akiteru. His brother's name is Akiteru.”

Knowing what he needs to do, Kenma turns, stumbling out of the pull and starts wading through the crowd that fights against him with unseeing, unfeeling bodies, as oblivious to Kenma's presence as ever.

“I need to find Tsukishima.” Kenma speaks with more conviction than he thought he'd ever spoken with before and while the same crowd is present and pushing, the surroundings have changed once more, but at least they were familiar.

Kenma cuts through the crowd and runs to the bus port's entry, shoving at the doors and darting inside with wild, searching eyes.

It doesn't take him long to find the long limbed, lanky, blonde boy, despite the fact that he's curled up around his knees and nearly tumbling off the front of the seat he's in.

“Your brother, his name's Akiteru. It's Akiteru,” Kenma gasps out, unaware that he'd been out of breath still he had stopped in front of Tsukishima.

“Aki-Akiteru. How, why did I forget something like that?” Tsukishima looks up to Kenma, his eyes red rimmed and puffy.

“I don't know. But I can't remember his name either. He, he was important and now I can't either,”

“Was it Kuroo? He's your friend. Isn't he?”

“Kuroo. That's it, his name is Kuroo.” Kenma feels a sense of relief wash through him now that the blank, the name, his name was known again.

“What's going on, Kenma? What's happening here?”

“I don't know,”

“Is anyone even looking for us?”

“They have to be. Two teenagers just don't go missing without anyone noticing. Not these days.”

“Something really isn't right about all of this though.”

“I've got an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“We go and ask for help.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“The lady at the ticket booth was cryptic before, but maybe we just weren't asking the right questions.”

“You're not suggesting,”

“What else can we do?”

 

Kenma stands in front of the glass screen. Once more he reaches out for the small, silver bell, and while he doesn't knock it so it clatters off the counter, when he hits it, instead of a soft peal, like a bell should make, the sound of metal crumpling against metal, a combination of a screech and a crunch sounds out. Kenma jumps at the sound, but the sudden intake of breath that Kenma hears behind makes him turn back.

Tsukishima looks like he'd seen a ghost, his face having gone an unhealthy shade of white, his whole body trembling.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I'm fine. Just, that sound,”

“It's weird,”

“I remember that sound,” Tsukishima whispers, as if he can't believe what he just heard or the fact that he can place it.

“Can I help you, Kozume and Tsukishima?” It's the friendly face from before, the lady who'd spoken to Kenma before.

Kenma straightens his back, pulls his shoulders back, takes a deep breath and tries to look her in the eyes.

“How do we remember?”

“It's easy. All you need to do is take a left when you leave the building and soon enough you'll see the photo booths. You can't miss them.” She smiles.

“How do photo booths help us?” Tsukishima cuts in, voice stronger than before.

“Pictures last forever, it's a great way to make memories. Don't you agree, Kozume and Tsukishima?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Kenma cuts in before Tsukishima can say anything else.

“Have a good day, Kozume and Tsukishima.” She answers. And as with the changes in scenery, as soon as Kenma blinks, she's gone.

“That wasn't helpful.”

“We don't have anything else to go on so it can't really hurt.” Kenma explains as he leads the way back out of the bus port.

“So we're turning left?”

“We can't miss the photo booths apparently.”

 

 

Kenma watches the people passing by, each in their own worlds taking in the sights, oblivious to the fact that they had walked through someone else, who was in a similar state of ignorance. Everyone was minding their own business, going at their own pace, except for Tsukishima and himself and Kenma wasn't curious enough to try and find out why. Appreciating the company for what it was and shivering at the thought of being trapped in a place like this alone.

Tsukishima pulls the curtain of the photo booth shut behind him, Kenma leans against the side to wait.

The sun was bright, the crowds were thinning out, and a dry sob sounded out form inside the photo booth before Tsukishima caught it.

The brush of fabric over metal sounds out and Kenma turns his head to see Tsukishima stumble out of the booth with damp cheeks, red rimmed eyes, and smudged glasses.

“You okay?”

Tsukishima looks at him and for the second time, Kenma wonders what he sees. This time, his eyes are empty, and raw, shoulders tense and tight, hands curled into fists. There’s clearly a crumpled reel of pictures in his right hand.

“Did you-“

“I'm dead. I'm fucking dead! We all are, and, and, I died. It's, it's all over,” Tsukishima spits until he just sounds lost. And maybe he is, Kenma thinks, because if what Tsukishima says is true, then this is the afterlife, even though it doesn't seem like it,

“That's ridiculous. Look at us, we're talking and breathing, and standing. We're alive.”

“I'm not, Kenma. And see,” Tsukishima closes the distance between them, only to shove Kenma back. “I'm solid to you so that means you're dead to.”

“No I'm not. I'm, we, we're not dead, Tsukishima. We can't be,” Kenma takes a few steps back as he regains his balance, arms folded tight across his chest seeing as he feels it's the only thing keeping himself together.

“Do you think you're too good to die like the rest of us mortals?” Tsukishima hisses.

“No. Just, I can't, I can't be. What about my mum? What about Kuroo? What, what happened? How could I die?” Kenma looks up to Tsukishima, almost afraid what he'll see there. The taller boy still looks mad, but guilt is starting to seep into his eyes. “What is this place?”

“What do you think?”

“A go between,” Kenma muses under his breath.

“What do you mean by that?”

“If you're dead then I'm dead. That means everyone here is dead. But notice how there is less people then when we first came here? Something happens. Maybe they move on, and we're,”

“Trapped.”

“Not trapped. Stuck, or maybe unaware of what direction to go.”

“So you're saying we have to do what everyone else is doing? So we can leave?”

“I'm not saying anything, just connecting dots. It makes sense.”

“Does anything here really make sense anymore? We're dead yet look at us, having a conversation.”

“Though that could also be proof that we're not dead. We just don't know.”

“You're sounding oddly optimistic, Kenma.”

“You think so?”

“Do you want to go in?” Kei asks nodding his head in the direction of the photo booth, the reel in his fist crinkling more under the force in which he squeezed.

“I-I guess I should,” Kenma says as he pushes off the side of the machine that he was leaning on. He pulls the curtain closed with a clammy hand, and takes a seat in the plasticy, overstuffed cushion that the booth offers, wincing at the squeak it lets out as he puts his weight on it.

The screen comes to life giving him the option of three different options.

 _Snapshots,_ _Moments,_ and _Headlines._

Kenma hesitates, finger hovering over the screen as he ponders over what each one could mean. He probably should have asked Tsukishima before he stepped inside, but the thought of looking away from the screen now, of getting up and off the seat and pulling the curtain open is not n option as his body is set in place. Agonising over the options, it’s like the point right before a jump, trying to summon the courage to do something stupid, body and mind at war with each other.

He could sit here and agonize over the choices longer, but instead, he acts on impulse, hitting the button labeled _Moments_.

The screen goes black quick enough to cause dots to dance across Kenma's visions before a count down flashes up on the screen.

5

4

3

2

1

There's a picture of Kuroo and Kenma and a bunch of guys from Kuroo's volleyball team. They're on a crowded bus heading to god knows where. He can smell it now, the smell of teenage boys with poor standards in hygiene crammed close together, pushing their weight around as the bus moves with the road and the twists and turns that follow. Kuroo always went out of his way to drag him along on these excursions and Kenma never really knew why. Kenma knew those guys in passing from his limited time on the team and never really understood while they were happy for Kuroo to drag him along. Why was Kuroo always so hung up about these forced interactions? He was such a worrier. Didn't he know that he was the only friend that Kenma needed.

The image fades to black and the numbers flash up again.

5

4

3

2

1

The team was walking through the woods, a lake visible through the trees ahead. He remembers the feeling of the gravel underfoot, wet leaves brushing past his face and tangling his hair. The rest of the boys had towels, but he only had his satchel, full of games and batteries, his phone. He remembers being nervous, holding onto the strap of his bag like it was a life line.

_“C'mon Kenma, hurry up.”_

Kuroo had turned back to talk to him, smile on his face.

Why did Kuroo keep trying?

5

4

3

Kenma squeezes his eyes shut, so he doesn’t have to see the numbers ticking down. He knows what’s coming, but the numbers don’t make it any easier. He doubts anything could.

Kenma's standing at the base of a large tree that juts out over the lake. He remembers how everyone else, all wet from their own plunges off the over hanging branches kept on trying to encourage him , guiding him towards it. Kenma hadn't wanted to be here, pushed around by damp hands. His shirt was now soaking from the ministrations despite the fact that he hadn't stepped into the water, yet, but he still kept it on. Kenma remembers shivering despite the warmth of the season, and how steady Kuroo's hands had felt on his shoulders as he told him,

“You don't have to,”

“But I want to,”

Just to get those other boys to shut up. Just to prove to them, to Kuroo, to himself that he wasn't a wuss, or a pansy, or a faggot, or any of the other names he always heard people whispering when his classmates thought he couldn't hear them.

He remembers the feel of the bark underneath his palms, how he couldn't help but flinch as dirt and moss settled under his fingernails. He remembers the burn in his arms and shoulders, as he pulled himself up to the branch that everyone else had been spring boarding off. Kenma remembers how it creaked as he fully stepped on it, and the crack as it snapped, like a gunshot echoing over the lake.

 

The lights dim in the booth momentarily before the final countdown began to flash-

5

Kenma knew before it started-

4

Could feel the burn in his throat-

3

The sting, like needles tearing at his body as he-

2

His chest felt tight, like it was being filled with-

1

_Splash_

He couldn’t look at the screen, but it didn’t matter. He was there, struggling in darkness, skin burning from the way he’d hit the water. The lake pressed over him cold and merciless, and the taste of dirt and blood was heavy in his mouth.

 

His arm stretched out like he remembered it, reaching for something to pull him out of that water. Kenma feels a broken sob crawl out of his throat, like the sound of an injured animal. His eyes burn as he presses a hand over his mouth to keep quiet, wondering, somewhere in the back of his mind, how long he’d been in there, if Tsukishima was waiting, if Tsukishima had heard.

 

There's a loud, rattling sound, and Kenma jumps as something falls within the photobooth. His heart’s still pounding when he sees the strip of images in a plastic slot, each one the ideal size to put in a wallet to display, just like any photo booth machine at a mall, in an arcade, of on the side of a board walk would do.

Kenma snatches it up without looking at the images, ripping the curtain open and blinking several times as he adjusts to the brightness outside the booth.

“So,”

Kenma looks to Tsukishima between the curtain of hair that had fallen over his face and gently shakes his head.

“Let's go then.” Tsukishima offers, his arms folded tightly across his chest and the strip of images he'd been carrying earlier nowhere in sight.

 

 

They're back to sitting under the tree that they always seemed to gravitate towards. The shade is cool and the grass as soft as ever as Kenma pulls it up in patches at his side.

“Which one did you pick?” Kenma asks. Just because they both decided that it may be best to talk about what had happened didn't really mean that they wanted to be the first one to do it.

Kenma still felt raw for sure, and he could only imagine that Tsukishima felt the same.

“Moments.”

“Same.”

“I wonder,” Tsukishima starts.

“It's not like it would make any difference now.”

Tsukishima lets out a sigh, which is followed by a soft thud letting Kenma know that the other boy has his back to the tree's trunk.

Kenma focuses on the growing pile of grass blades and not the strip of pictures that he could only tuck into the waist band of his track pants.

“Akiteru was giving the other first years and I a lift to a practice match at another school. Our year was on a field trip and we wouldn't have gotten back in time to head over on the bus with the rest of the team. Hinata, Kageyama, and,”

“Yamaguchi?”

“Yeah. Yamaguchi and those two were in the back. I was in the front seat. Hinata and Kageyama were arguing, same old thing, and Yamaguchi couldn't get them to stop so I turned around to tell them to shut it,” Tsukishima takes a moment to catch his breath. “He smiled at me because he hates it when those two go at it. And then something hit us, from the front side. I remember hearing whimpering. I think Hinata was calling out to us before he got his phone out and called for help, and I tried to turn, to check if Akiteru was alright, but my eyes weren't working right and my head was so heavy and I looked down, and”

“And here you are.”

“Here I am.”

A gentle breeze blows in and the canopy above them almost seems to breath.

“Kuroo, he insisted that I join him and some of his other friends for a day at the lake. He wouldn't take no for an answer. They found this tree that jutted out over the water and were using it to jump from. Kuroo told me I didn't have to do it if I didn't have to, but I was sick of the way everyone else was looking at me so I climbed up there, shuffled across the branch, looked ahead and went to jump. It was just my luck that the branch decided to give out then. I hit the water weird so I already had nothing but water in me and I couldn't tell up from down.

“And here I am.”

“Here you are.”

“Kuroo probably blames himself.”

“I don't know if the others made it,”

A breeze blows lightly through the park as Kenma struggles to swallow the lump in his throat, Tsukishima wiping silently at his eyes.

“So what now?” Kenma asks.

“No idea.”

“Has there been anything you've really wanted to do but never did?”

“Loud commentary in a movie theater. What are you getting at?”

“We're already dead, what's the worst that could happen? May as well have some fun with it.” Kenma announces as he wipes his hands on his pants before pulling himself up. He looks down at Tsukishima, who seems to be thinking it over before he cracks a small smile that softens his eyes.

“I like the way you think.

 

 

They ran out of the theater, even though they were well aware that there wouldn't be any security chasing after them. It was more for the thrill of it, and Kenma couldn't help but smile as he struggles to keep up with Tsukishima's longer stride. The taller boy honestly looked like he was enjoying himself.

“So, what's you're pick?” Tsukishima asks as they slow to a stop before leaning over, hands braced against his knees as he regains his breath. Kenma opts to sit on the ground instead, giving his legs a break.

“It's stupid.”

“We just heckled a full theater in a mega stadium, defending the villain and clamoring for the romantic interest to end up with him. You made some really convincing points. Nothing is too stupid.” Tsukishima reasons, holding a hand out to Kenma.

Kenma sighs before taking hold and letting Tsukishima help him up.

“Later on, I'm going to remind you that it was you that said that ‘nothing is too stupid’.”

“Fine by me.”

 

“How are you so good at this?” Tsukishima wheezes, out of breath as he leans against the bar sticking out of the machine's base.

“Guilty pleasure, though I've only played the Game Station 2 version, with the plastic mat. Never had the back bone to do it in public before.” Kenma says as he leans towards the screen, selecting another song.

“Not another one,” Tsukishima groans as the music begins to start and he begrudgingly shuffles into position.

“Ah ah, no complaining. And you're not doing bad enough for me to believe that you've never played Dance Dance Revolt before.” Kenma jabs as his eyes focus on the stream of arrows scrolling across the screen.

“Just you wait for what I have planned next.” Tsukishima threatens as he manages to keep up more or less with Kenma's score.

“Nothing is too stupid.”

 

“We're going to get into trouble.” Kenma whines as he drags a basket full of water balloons up the steps of the over pass.

“How can we get in trouble when we are the law? Explain that?”

“You're a good for nothing punk waiting to happen.”

“Says the guy with the bleached hair. You just scream hooligan.”

“Rude. Now are we going to do this, or can we do something less stupid?”

Tsukishima lobs over the first balloon of many, watching as it curved and wobbled in mid air before hitting one of the smiling faces standing outside one of the stores below.

Kenma ducked below the overpass's ledge.

“get down or they'll see you.”

“they didn't even feel it, look for yourself.” Tsukishima says as he grabs more balloons.

Kenma peers over the ledge, seeing how the friendly face is standing just as they had before, seemingly unaffected by the wet patch across their front and the balloon fragments stuck to their damp shoulder.

“Maybe I'll just chuck a few,”

 

“Fireworks? And you called me a punk. Didn't you get ID'd for them?” Tsukishima teased as Kenma lead the way back to the beach with his arms full of all the fireworks he could carry.

“No, they just happened to be handing them out on a street corner. Gave me water proof matches.”

“That was nice of them. Is it even going to be dark enough to set them off?” Tsukishima asks as he sits down and watches as Kenma sets up the pyrotechnics in the sand.

“Have a little faith, Tsukishima. I hope it will be dark enough to light these soon.” And as Kenma voiced it, the sky began to dim, the sunset passing in moments before it was well and truly night.

“I'll never get over how creepy that is.”

“Just because you don't have a knack for it.”

“Well I hope Kenma will be less annoying.”

“No change, how unfortunate. You ready?”

“You're the one with the water proof matches.”

“Alright, here we go.”

 

“We've ordered room service, and raided the mini bar. What else is there to do in here?” Tsukishima asks as he flops back onto the king double that sits smack bang in the middle of the room. Kenma joins him on the bed, falling beside Tsukishima's, causing them both the bounce.

“No consequences so we could always trash the room.” Kenma offers, turning his head towards Tsukishima, who's looking back with an odd look in his eyes.

“Did you ever have your first kiss?” Tsukishima asks out of the blue, tone serious.

Kenma's breath hitches at that. Tsukishima pushes himself up and over so that he’s hovering above Kenma.

“Can I-“

Kenma nods and with that movement Tsukishima head dives down.

Their lips meet.

Tsukishima pulls back.

Kenma lurches forward, breathing through his nose when their lips meet again, and again, and again.

He doesn't know how they end up like this, Tsukishima sprawled out beneath him, curling his fingers in Kenma’s hair, the two of them gasping and biting at each others’ mouths.

“Tsukishim-aaah” Kenma moans as Tsukishima pulls more harshly, Kenma's scalp stinging in a way that left him in the right type of light headed state.

“Kei. Call me Kei, Kenma,” Tsukishima, _Kei_ , breaths against the shell of Kenma's ear as he begins to grind up into Kenma.

“Oh god, Kei. Kei,”

“That's right. You're so good, Yama-” Kei starts, stopping when Kenma pushes against his chest with one hand, the other grasping at Kei's wrist, pulling his hand out of his hair.

“Wha-”

Kenma shakes his head, messed up hair falling to cover his face as he rolls off of Kei and lays on his back beside him.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you,”

“I'm sorry I'm not him, Kei.”

“But we-”

“It's not fair. On you, or him. No regrets, remember? That's what we agreed on.”

“I,”

“I'm sorry, Kei,”

Kei's breathing becomes hitches before he sobs, the noise ringing out violently in the otherwise silent room.

“How could I,”

“It's not your fault.”

“But I started it, and,”

“Did it seem like I was complaining?”

“I was being selfish. I just wanted,”

“It was one of the things you wanted to do, but I don't think it's something that this place can give you. I'm sorry.”

Kei chokes on a cry, before speaking in a tiny, broken voice.

“I hate being dead,”

Kenma listens as Kei dissolves into sobs again, his mind tripping over the past few days spent together. Strange that he feels no regret.

“I've felt more alive here than I ever did when I was alive. How messed up is that?” Kenma manages, before his throat turns tight, and he cries.

 

Kei's breaths were too inconstant for him to be asleep yet, too shallow with the occasional deep sigh intermixed amongst them.

The tears of Kenma's own face had dried, making his face feel that little bit tight and dirty, but rather than wipe at his eyes and cheeks, letting Kei know for sure that he was awake, Kenma opted to close the distance between the two. Simply one body seeking out the comforting presence of another in their sleep. A subconscious reaction that no one could point fingers at him for. Kenma knew he was being selfish, especially with Kei's earlier revelation, but if there was any time to pull stuff like this, it was now. What more did he have left to lose?

Centimeters became millimeters between Kei and himself. The warmth being radiated by the other more comforting than any amount of blankets Kenma had buried himself under in the cold winter nights.

This is nice, Kenma thinks to himself, and he feels his heart clench.

He'd never get to experience something like this with someone who could return the feeling.

No quiet mornings, legs tangles in sheets and waking up in someone's arms. No arguing about what brand of soap to buy, or who was making what for dinner. No going through the years with another, watching as they slowly aged.

Kenma was never going to have that. He'd missed his chance.

Maybe he'd given something away, or maybe Kei was feeling like being as equally selfish as Kenma had, but a long arm fell over Kenma, pulling him tight against his chest.

Kenma let out a shuddery breath, before relaxing, sneaking his own free arm up to return Kei's embrace.

They didn't need to say anything. They had each other.

 

Kenma wakes up warm.

But not the kind of warm he imagined he’d feel, sharing a bed with someone else. When he opens his eyes, that nagging suspicion in the back of his mind is confirmed.

The covers weren't thrown back, instead, laid out neatly.. The pillows and mattress had the slight indent of a space that had only recently been vacated. The mattress beneath Kenma's outstretched arm, that had been curled around another body the night before, rested against the bedding, which was cool underneath.

Kei was gone.

Kenma knows he probably needs to get moving, not knowing when the inns staff would be by to check or clean the room, but for now he really couldn't will himself to move.

Kei had moved on, and now Kenma was alone.

 

 

The sunlight is warm against his skin. Not sweltering, like summers he remembers, but not the dry heat that comes from heaters in the cooler months. Just the perfect amount of warmth.

It reminds him of a similar warm day years ago and his stomach twists.

He runs one hand through his mess of thinning hair, starting to recede prematurely with the amount of fussing and tugging he's become prone to do. The other pulls his old high school sports jacket close around him. The zipper is broken and the colour has faded, and it hangs more off him now than it used to, but it feels safe and familiar.

The jacket is too thin now to be any hindrance in the sun, and that he is thankful for seeing as it's not exactly beach-appropriate attire.

When did he get to the beach?

He stops to think about that, letting the crowd wash on past him as they keep moving on wards, seeming to part around him as he thinks.

He looks around, for a landmark, a sign, anything to give him any sense of where exactly he is.

There's a lot of people, there are booths, vendors, a theme park in the distance, and,

He spots blonde hair and roots in desperate need of a touch up.

His chest feels tight and his heart jumps up into his throat.

He begins to move, cutting across through the crowd, but it's like the tide of traffic is fighting against him, trying to pull him away.

He had to get to him, because it had to be, it couldn't be anyone else but-

_Splash_

He bursts forward, pushing out of the crowd.

He remembers the splash of water against skin, how the branch had snapped beneath the other boy and the moment between someone jumping into the water and coming up carried on a bit too long, and the panic that started to pulse in his blood. He remembered wading into the water, calling out, hands searching, _no, no, it can’t be, no please-_

“Kenma!” His eyes are wet and burning, and this throat feels torn up.

The bleached head turns, the boy's eyes, Kenma's eyes, wide in surprise, before he begins to run towards him.

They meet halfway.

 


End file.
